The Bucephalus Way - Path Built from Movement, Listening, and Connection

Bucephalus - the legendary horse of Alexander the Great - has accompanied my path for several years now. A name that holds within it the horse, the human, and the meeting point between them - the place where change, learning, and growth become possible.

Whether it is a therapeutic encounter, a group workshop, or a professional training program, we have always had a way of working that guides us - even if we had not formally named it.

Lately I realized that Bucephalus Leadership Empowerment Center does not fully represent who we are.

Yes, we deal with empowerment and leadership - but not only that. More than anything, I felt that the word Center describes mainly a physical place instead of something internal - a movement, a direction, a mindset. We do have a physical center, and it is truly special, but the real center we speak about lives within people, within relationships, within the body, and in the shared space that emerges - not necessarily in one specific location.

Together with wise and curious partners on this journey, we understood that it was time to refine the name - to give a title to what already exists. And so was born:

The Bucephalus Way

At the end of the third season of Ted Lasso, the journalist Trent Crimm gives Ted a copy of the book he wrote about the team, originally titled The Lasso Way.

But Ted, as always, offers a different perspective. He leaves a small note with a single sentence:

“I’d change the title. It’s not about me. It never was.”

Crimm changes it - and the book is published as The Richmond Way.

It is perhaps a small moment in the show, but it struck me exactly where it needed to. Because in the end, this is not the path of one person. Not of one method. It is a way built from human relationships, from steady work, from countless undocumented moments of trust, support, and presence.

Crimm describes it this way:

“By slowly but surely building a club-wide culture of trust and support through thousands of imperceptible moments.”

And that is exactly what we feel is happening here - at Bucephalus.

Not a one-time spark, not a moment of genius, but a process woven over time.

That is why The Bucephalus Way is not just a new name - it is a way to see what already exists in a clearer light.

The Principles of The Bucephalus Way

The Bucephalus Way was not born as a vision statement. It evolved over time - through encounters, insights, trial and error, and mostly through the people and horses who reminded us what truly matters. These are not principles carved in stone - they are living milestones that continue to take shape as we move forward.

1. The body knows

   To slow down. To stop. To feel. The body holds what does not yet have words - it just needs permission. Through movement, touch, and breath, we can understand not only by thinking, but by being.

2. Partnership with the horse and the environment

   When we meet a horse, we meet a living, sensitive, independent being - and a mirror. The relationship is built on reciprocity, deep listening, and learning that happens within a shared field - between human, animal, nature, and environment.

3. Learning through the process, not just the outcom

   Change does not arrive all at once. It builds over time through a series of moments - often quiet and unseen - that accumulate into inner movement. Along this path there is room for doubt, for questions, and for each person’s and each horse’s own pace.

4. …

   And well, we still do not know how to phrase the fourth principle. But we know it matters. Ultimately, this way is not meant only to point toward a direction - it is meant to remind us what truly holds meaningful processes together. Not noise, not quick results, not off-the-shelf solutions - but listening, patience, and the willingness to remain in spaces that do not always offer certainty.

The Bucephalus Way is not a closed roadmap but an invitation to a journey. One that begins in the body, continues in connection, builds through movement - and carries on even when we do not yet know exactly where it leads.

My father always used to say: “The goal is the way.”And perhaps now, in a world rushing to replace, to label, to achieve - we choose to go deeper. To pause. To linger. To remember that what truly matters - sometimes still has no name. But it is there.